


Nuisance

by judesrivers



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, I can’t write about John hitting Paul even if I wanted to, It’s very brief, John is madly in love with Paul, John is triggered at Paul’s bluntness, Little-to-no hints of physical violence, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Content, Or I could, Paul has a hard time reciprocating it, Paul puts up a hard time for John, You would probably not notice it, i don’t know, really just a filler until i can move my ass to make a full story, this is my first post from a new account??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judesrivers/pseuds/judesrivers
Summary: Paul chewed the inside of his cheek, turning his head over to the direction Jane went to make sure the door was closed. Once confirmed that the door was closed, Paul lowered his voice a bit. “Anyway, what are you calling here for John? Cyn throw you out?”“No you fucking idiot.” John spat, loud enough in the empty room to have his echo fill up the capacity of the room. “I had a dream. About us. You know, how it was beforehand? How we were.”———John confronts Paul about his feelings for the umpteenth time, and as always — it doesn’t end well.
Relationships: Jane Asher/Paul McCartney (Not much), John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Kudos: 33





	Nuisance

Ordinary day for nobodies, but a usual cluster-fuck for the music industry. John was getting no peace from the tightly corrupted schedule he had to follow by on — and it kept irritating him beyond repair. At first he could barely sleep whenever there was time to, little instances of a much-needed sleeping break given to the boys weren’t all that for the four young men. They wanted to stay up. Attend everything they couldn’t attend way back when.

Now it was done. It was beginning to become too much by the end of the year. It was all agreed upon, but no one else decided to make a statement on it yet. John figured he’d be the first one.

Within a couple of days close to George’s twenty-second birthday, there was a particularly early morning where John was erupted out of his sleep.

—

Paul was fucking _exhausted_. His body was paralyzed with a strange amount of fatigue, and the only thing he was capable of moving was his arm to clumsily grasp at the ringing phone situated on the nightstand. It took several attempts, including when Paul accidentally knocked the entire phone down onto the floor which made him wince at his own unintentional obnoxiousness.

“Paul?” Jane’s light voice suddenly awoken every fiber of sleeping nerves that were still in Paul’s body. As she watched Paul frantically move his hands around, she became suspicious as of who was calling her boyfriend. “What on earth are you doing?” Jane had then coolly questioned, watching as Paul scrambled to gather the loudly ringing phone.

“Just a minute.” Paul anxiously replied, smacking a hand on the nightstand to feel around for a lamp.

Jane whisked off the covers, and began to depart from the warmth of the bed. “My God Paul, who is calling you at this hour? It’s going on four in the morning!”

Paul’s voice dropped an octave when he turned his head to her direction. “Well we’ll find out when I answer the phone right?”

Jane glared at him. All the patterns of Paul McCartney’s infidelities would start on with random birds ringing him in the middle of the night. She made a mental note of that.

Without another word the lamp successfully clicked on, and Paul leaned down to pick up the phone. Jane’s eyes never left his as the brunette took the phone into his hand, answering as smoothly as he could. “Hello? Who is this?”

John was sat at the dinner table with a cold glass of water tight in his grip. “It’s John, what took you so long to answer the bloody phone?” The older male asked timidly, there was a hint of annoyance laced gratefully in his tone from the lack of Paul’s punctuality with late night phone calls.

Paul ran a hand down his chubby cheek, “It’s not everyday I get a call in the middle of the night John.”

“It’s five in the morning.”

“And?” Paul queried, side eyeing Jane as she dispersed into the bathroom for a possible lady hygiene routine. That’d take her about an hour tops, and the mostly accurate realization made Paul roll his eyes unknowingly.

“Don’t act as if you don’t have different birds calling you at the same time. You’re a nuisance.” John muttered, already hinting to where this conversation was heading onto in the future.

Paul chewed the inside of his cheek, turning his head over to the direction Jane went to make sure the door was closed. Once confirmed that the door was closed, Paul lowered his voice a bit. “Anyway, what are you calling here for John? Cyn throw you out?”

“No you fucking idiot.” John spat, loud enough in the empty room to have his echo fill up the capacity of the room. “I had a dream. About us. You know, how it was beforehand? How we were.”

 _Here we go_. Paul just blinked his slowly, his gaze being locked onto an invisible camera that he mentally pictured. “Go on, and enlighten me.” Paul eventually sighed, and stood up with the phone held in his hand. There’d be enough extension chord for him to drag this call out into the hallway right? That’s what he was going for. He couldn’t bare the thought of Jane eavesdropping on them, and them spilling all of these tell-tale stories on the BBC magazines, or news charts.

“Don’t be a twat.”

Paul was already seated down in the hallway when John said that. For a moment, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to keep a straight face and he laughed sufferably quiet for about several minutes. “John love, it’s me; Paul. You know I’m absolutely interested in whatever you have to say at any hour of the day. Plus, I reckon that I already know what it is.”

“Then what is it?” John’s voice was scared, _vulnerable_ and trembling.

“It’s what we go over all of the time when it’s late.” Paul softly stated, dwindling his fingers with the curly chord that connects the phone with whatever the fuck. “When you have those dreams per-say, those naughty dreams that feed you lies after lies. How we were before, it’s still what we are now—can’t you see it Johnny?”

“No I can’t. If anything, it’s gotten worse. Millions of people know who the fuck we are, but they don’t know what we are Paul. It’s beginning to become shit, all of this hiding and hesitation. Then you’re out here being the most greatest actor you could be. Doing fucking freight trains on thousands of birds as if I’m not worthy enough to have a sprinkle of your affection anymore.” John rambled, half-knowing to keep his voice down and not awake his wife of two-going on three years. “Before all of this, it- it was just us..wasn’t it better? When we could just sneak off into each other’s houses and spend the day together without having to use bloody beards to hide the fact that we’re poofs.”

At that moment — Paul took the phone off of his ear, and then he stared at it as if the phone had three heads. He was honestly getting tired with all of this nonsense, every fucking time there’s an explanation he has to give over to John. “Are you drunk?” Paul had just asked, eyebrows furrowing at how bland his own tone of voice had seemed.

“Am I drunk?” John mouthed in disbelief, his eyes widening only the slightest. “ _That little shit_.” He breathlessly mumbled to himself afterwards, and then without even knowing what he was doing he was off speaking. “No I’m not fucking drunk Paul. I’m tired of acting like I enjoy spending my time with other people, some I barely even know just to keep it a secret that me and you are together. At times it seems that it’s so very fucking easy for you to act like nothing’s happening between us, and lately it seems to becoming more clear that you’re comfortable with the life the media would expect you to have then to be with sorry old Lennon.”

Paul’s McCartney-senses could tell Jane was looking for him at such a complexed moment. In the middle of John’s rant, he tried to speak up. “Can you-”

“It’s like you forget about the times where I’d make you cum like no one else has. It’s like you forget who took your virginity, who marked you, who claimed you and who the fuck you belong to. Most importantly, the first and only person who ever loved you. Plus all the times I was there for you when your dad would be a worthless sack of shit for you and Michael when you were still mourni-”

Paul slammed the phone down on the receiver instantaneously hanging up on the older man. Paul leaned his back against the wall, exhaling a much needed huff of air before swallowing down a huge lump of anxiety and angst in his throat. Well that was one way to shut a half-sobbing and ridiculously angry John Lennon up at five o’clock in the morning. His own feelings about every word John said were delayed, instead it was just an uncomfortable amount of anxiety that was racking his body.

It’d always happen when John was angry at him like that. It didn’t mean he was terrified of John, but it meant that such sensitive topics that Paul would nestle a heavy cloak on would be exposed. Most of the time, Paul would shut it down. Maybe he shouldn’t of asked John if he was drunk, but it wasn’t his fault that John would become verbally aggressive at him. Also a drunken John would get sometimes - almost _rarely_ physically aggressive to Paul when he was drunk and overthinkingly open-minded.

“Are you alright?” Jane asked, her voice more softened than earlier with a lingering scent of toothpaste clouding Paul’s senses. “Paul?”

“Yes I’m alright.”

Jane nodded, and then after a few seconds, she surprisingly sat down next to Paul on the floor in the middle of the hallway. “Who was on the phone?” She asked, her voice was obviously guarded and Paul immediately understood why. God, he is a nuisance. That poor girl. 

“John.” Paul breathlessly replied, “He was just drunk. Nothing to fret about.”

•••


End file.
